Story Starters!
by Metronome I Hear
Summary: I have a lot of ideas but not the patience to write them to completion. And so I will post those ideas here in the hopes that others may see them and write them for me.
1. Introduction

So I have a lot of ideas for Harry Potter fanfiction and Harry Potter crossovers but I don't always have the patience to sit down and write them from beginning to end. And thus, I will be posting ideas here. If you want to take one, go ahead! Take the starter and write away! Just PM me so that I know that you're using it and so I can read the wonderful works that the people of this site write.


	2. Salazar Slytherin's Ghost

August 1st, 1981

A shadowed and slightly see through figure stood over the sleeping form of a tiny child. The man smiled slightly at the 1 year old figure of Harry Potter, one of the last of his descendants. It saddened him that there were so few of them left alive. There were but two left, and he wasn't very proud of Tom Marvolo Riddle, descendant of his eldest son. But there was still hope for his line, he supposed as he stared down at the latest descendant of his only daughter. Young Harry had Sabrina's eyes, that beautiful emerald that he often saw among his daughter's descendants.

The man crouched down to get a better look at the tiny toddler's face. He hadn't been able to see this descendant of his on till now, but he was glad to finally see Harry.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked at the figure of Salazar Slytherin. The baby smiled and giggled happily, reaching out towards the ghostly figure of his ancestor. This surprised Salazar, he hadn't expected Harry to be able to see him. Rarely were his descendants able to even notice his presence. But he quickly got over that fact and smiled at the baby. He reached out with one pale white hand and laughed softly as Harry made a futile attempt to capture the figure's hand.

Perhaps he could stay and watch this one a little longer. It wouldn't hurt, now would it?

October 31st, 1981

Salazar gritted his teeth as he watched Tom, or Voldemort as the man liked to call himself, burst through the door to the home of the Potters. Oh how it frustrated him to see the wizarding world in such a state and that his descendants would have to come and face a confrontation like this. And it angered him that he was unable to do anything about any of it. He was nothing more than a specter that watched his children's children and all those that came after them. So he stood there, off to the side, and watched as his family killed each other. Lilly went down and Salazar had to stop himself from looking away when Tom pointed his wand at Harry.

And then, just as Tom cast the curse that would end the life of the last of Sabrina's line, something happened. The curse hit the baby's forehead and bounced back at Tom. Tom screamed and there was an explosion. When the smoke settled down, Tom had disappeared and all that was left was the bodies of Harry's parents, Harry still sleeping in his crib, and a lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

Salazar immediately went over to harry and checked on him and smiled in relief when he saw that the child was okay. Then he frowned when he sensed the magic that gathered around the toddler's forehead and recognized the dark nature about it. But he wasn't able to dwell on it for long, however, for it was then that Sirius arrived, followed shortly by Hagrid. Salazar followed when Hagrid took Harry and frowned when he saw the fool of a man Dumbledore waiting. He watched in silence as Dumbledore left Harry at the Dursley's doorstep and wished that he could curse the man into oblivion for this act. But he looked down at little harry and his eyes softened. He sat down next to the child and waited for morning to come. The least he could do for his descendant was to stay with him during a time of need.


	3. To sit where the Light is Darkest

The night had long settled in when a man with long blonde, nearly white, hair and storm grey eyes walked down the stairs that lead to the underground. Next to him followed another man, this one dressed all in black with greasy black hair and onyx eyes.

The underground.

It sounded so simple, and it was. Yet it wasn't all at the same time. The first man reached the bottom of the stairs and gripped his cane, hiding his wand, tighter as he looked around. The underground, as so many called it. It was a muggle place, built and run by them, but all manner of creatures from the Wizarding World hid here as well. Magic saturated the air and it clung to the skin of the people who walked the streets of the hidden compound.

The buildings that lined the streets were all similar yet different at the same time. Clubs of all kinds, brothels, and all manner of other establishments were run here. None of the nice kind. People littered the streets, heading to and fro between the various buildings and alleyways or just standing there along the sidelines, glancing towards any passerby's to try and sell their 'goods'.

The men, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape, sneered at them. They were hardly clothed much of the time, and even then it was in what a pureblood would consider rags. This place was far from 'high end' but it was 'on the map' none the less. A woman with dirty blonde hair with hot pink and black streaks took a drag of her cigarette, shifted her arms so she showed off her cleavage more, and then smiled at Lucius in a suggestive way.

"Hey there, sweetheart. Why don't you come down this way? I promise you'll be in for a real _treat_." She purred.

Neither men spared her one glance and simply passed her by. They wanted to get away from this place as soon as possible. The air here left them feeling wary and on edge. They could hardly believe that it was in such a place that they would find _that person_.

That person, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who defeated a dark lord at only age one, who had been missing for nearly 13 years.

That night, when the Dark Lord had disappeared and Potter had been declared the savior of the Wizarding World, little Potter was left at his relative's doorstep by Albus Dumbledore and yet by morning, he had gone. No one had been able to find him, the Ministry went into a panic, the Wizarding World wasn't much better, and everyone asked one question. Where had Harry Potter gone?

Now, nearly 13 years later, the Ministry had caught wind of Harry Potter's magic. How, Lucius wasn't entirely sure, but it mattered not. All he needed to do was find the boy.

Lucius and Severus stopped in front of a building with light purple paint that was peeling off. There were no windows, no signs, no anything to indicate what kind of business was run here. The pair pushed open the door and looked around the room just beyond. The carpet was thick and a dark shade of purple dotted with black. The walls were a dark red that complimented the carpet nicely. On the walls hung all sorts of fabrics in a wide variety of shades in Red, Purple, Black, Pink, and Orange. Couches, that were more mattresses covered with a silk like fabric, sat against the walls and were covered in pillows. There were two doors on each wall that lead somewhere else. A thick smoke filled the air and it wasn't hard to figure out illegal drugs were commonplace. Lounging on the couched were beautiful men and women. Some slept, others chatted in hushed voices, and some kissed and then led their partner to another room.

When Lucius and Severus stepped inside, very few glanced their way. The two men ignored them all in favor of looking for the one they had been sent to find. Their eyes rested on a boy sitting near the very back of the room talking with a woman who looked only a few years older than the boy. The boy, Harry Potter the two were now sure, had long midnight black hair that fell below his waist. His eyes almost glowed _Avada Kedavra_ green in a way that sent shivers down Lucius' and Severus' spines. His skin was pale, but not in an unhealthy way. He was just a bit over average height, and had a lithe but muscular frame. He was dressed in black skinny jeans, and emerald green long sleeved shirt that showed off his neck and collar bone. One of his ears had an earring with a rune meaning 'Blood' hanging at the end of it.

Severus was the one who moved forward first. He walked towards the boy and stopped in front of him. "Mr. Potter?" He questioned.

Potter looked up at Snape and smiled in a way that was both seductive and terrifying, "And who might that be?" He purred, his tone both suggestive and condescending.

Snape raised an eyebrow, "You, would it not?"

Potter leaned back a bit, "I haven't heard that name in years… I go by Eldritch at the moment, but I have all sorts of names. Would you like to hear a few?" He tilted his head a bit to one side and smirked at Snape, who looked at the boy with impassive eyes. Snape took a letter out from inside a pocket and handed it to Potter. The boy took the letter and looked at it. "Hogwarts?" He questioned.

When Snape said nothing, the boy opened it and took out the letter. He read it over and frowned slightly. When he was finished he looked back up at Snape and raised an eyebrow, "We might want to head to a room for this."

Snape stopped himself from sneering, something told him it would be a bad idea. He looked over at Lucius, who had at some point made his way to Snape's side, and then followed Potter as he headed to one of the doors. Potter opened the door and headed down a hallway decorated with the same wall coloring, carpet, and fabric as the last room. The hallway was filled with doors. The boy stopped before one of them, knocked once, then opened it and headed inside.

The room was larger than one would have expected from the outside. The walls were an emerald green the same shade as Potter's shirt, the Carpet was black, and the wall trimmings were silver. There was a king sized bed in one corner with dark cherry wood and dark green covers. There was a fireplace on another wall with a couch and two chairs facing it. Potter walked over to the fireplace and gracefully sat down on the couch. He looked over at the other two in silent question. Snape and Malfoy walked over and claimed the two chairs.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is it like Madame Ophelia used to spout about a few years back before she got caught by the Italians?" Potter tilted his head a bit to one side again.

Lucius and Severus looked at one another and then back at the boy. "Madame Ophelia?" Questioned Lucius.

"Madame Ophelia. She used to weave wild tales of dragons in Romania, goblins running banks, Centaurs that tell fortunes with the stars, and Dark Witches and Wizards. She used to look at me and smile and say that one day I would know 'Just what it means to be marked as an equal by He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Known'. Died a few years back. The Italians from the Sicilian Mafia caught her trying to sneak off with one of their shipments. They found her body near Freight Lane. Nasty stuff, really. Would make men of lesser wills faint."

Lucius and Severus shared a look then turned back to the boy, "Yes. That sounds about accurate."

The boy grinned and madness gleamed in his eyes, "Oh, _wonderful_. Then I accept. Now, tell me more of this Wizarding World."


	4. Taveling

Harry wasn't sure when _it_ started.

All he knew was that one day he was surrounded by all his friends, having finished the war and saved everyone, and then one day he realized they were all _gone_. He knew that Ron was the first to go, that much he was certain of. Or _was_ he? Suddenly it was hard to remember. He knew that Ron was killed by a death eater, not long after Voldemort's demise. Even after their Lord was dead, many stuck around trying, trying, trying so hard to make a comeback in a war already long lost.

Hermione soon followed. A bout of madness, he supposed, after losing her lover she snapped and _cracked_ and _broke_. A giggling _mess_ by the end of it. Everyone else just disappeared one day. Yesterday they were the best of friends, the next they were distant and reserved. And looking back on it, he wasn't really all too sad to see them gone.

But.

That didn't mean that it didn't confuse him. He frowned and thought and pondered why they left and he found no answer. The only thing he knew for certain was one thing. He was completely, totally, utterly

Alone.

Harry, after thinking over the _situation_ he had found himself in, supposed it had to do with what had changed about him after the war. He was _different_ now. Strange. For one, he hadn't aged. Not a day. His hair still grew, his body functioned as normal, but not in all the years that had passed by since the end of the war had he aged a single day.

Then there were the other… _Things_ that occurred around him. Shadows moving that didn't belong to anyone, sounds of footsteps and childish laughter echoing around him whenever the room was quiet. Things that no one knew what to make of.

And so they drifted away.

Harry, finding the whole situation strange, then decided that since there wasn't anything holding him there, in London, that he would travel.

And so he did. Harry traveled to a great many places. He visited India, Egypt, France, Russia, Spain, Japan, Germany, China, and a great many other places. His favorite, he mused to himself, had to be Italy. He found himself addicted to the language and the culture. He loved the sights and sounds and food and people. But even after falling in love with the place, he did not stay. He moved on.

Harry lost track of how much time had passed at one point or another, but it didn't really matter all too much to him. So long as he was never bored or alone, nothing mattered to him all too much.

That was, on till _that_ day came.

The day the muggles found out about magic.

He couldn't quite remember just _how_ they found out, just that they did. It took a while, the political debate seemed _endless_. But eventually, as all things did, things snapped. War started between the two worlds. Wizards, light and dark and grey, all battled and fought and warred against the muggles who terrorized and trampled and terrified them.

Harry, being sick and tired and _bored_ with war, stayed out of it. He continued to wander, escaping the flames of fallen cities and viewing the ruins of once great wizarding communities. And even in the face of all this _Death_ he didn't feel anything for those who died. In fact, if there was anything he felt like doing, it was _giggling_. Voldemort, the man who they all labeled as evil and dark and wrong was _right_.

It was downright _hilarious._

But still, he couldn't find himself to care. Those whom he had been close too were long since dead, their spirits nothing more than whispers that spoke just out of his hearing range when the world what silent around him.

And then it ended.

As quickly as it had begun, it was gone and spent and dead. All the wizards, other than the occasional Muggleborn and himself, were dead.

And so he became bored again. Things had quickly lost their charm.

And then.

A thought struck him.

What if he was to travel somewhere other than the world, the time, he was now? He smiled and laughed and crackled at the thought and set off to search and experiment and find a way to go. Then he finally did.

He left.

And that was the last that Earth, the year 2206, ever saw of one

Harry

James

Potter.


	5. When the Abyss Stares Back

**July 21****st****, 1995**

_In movies there is always rain playing in the background when someone is murdered. In real life, that doesn't happen. There is no somber patter of rain falling to reflect the sorrow in another losing their life. It's not always dark and cloudy. There are days when it's sunny and children are laughing and people still have a gun to their head, a knife at their throat. It's funny when you think about it, the odd feeling you have when the world around you seems to be the exact opposite of what you're doing right then and there. I've felt that many times before, when I hold another's life in my hands it's not always dark and dank, and sometimes it's downright cheery. Point is, things are hardly as they seem in the movies._

_In the movies the explosions are too fiery, the gunfire too bright, the blood too red, and the personalities of the people too skewed. It's all for the sake of the story there, in real life it's all about survival. You do what you have to, no matter how looked down upon it is by the 'general public'. In real life, no one cares if the sun is shining when you pull the trigger or if it's raining cats and dogs. It's only you and the gun. You and the victim, if your can call them that._

_I've known for a very long time now that life is nothing like the movies. I knew that the first time that my 'uncle' hit me and beat me with his belt while his wife and son watched with a cold indifference. So why am I writing about this now? I don't know. I just felt that I had too, that something compelled me to try to explain this concept on paper…_

…..

**August 5****th****, 1995**

_There was another fight between gangs today. They seem to be getting more and more common. The Mafioso that like to hang around the area are starting to get agitated at the fighting. Already, the Spanish have started to move in to stop it. The triads look as if they are going to step in soon too._

_I'm not sure if I should be happy or sad about these developments. It means more work for me, in both healing and killing, so that means there's more money to buy my bread. But it also means that those in the community, including my friends, are getting hurt. Just yesterday Lindsey came in with two bullet wounds. The violence seems never ending. _

**September 17****th****, 1995**

_I've started to get strange dreams. I don't know what to make of them. There are these green lights and a woman's screams and laughter of a man gripped with insanity. They are leaving me restless and so I immerse myself in my work more than I should._

_Maria is getting worried about me. So is Stan. When I ask him if there are any new jobs for me he gives me an odd look and shakes his head before giving me anything that's come in. Maybe I should take a break?_

**October 31****st****, 1995**

_It's Halloween today. Something bad always happens on Halloween. Today was no different. A fight broke out in the Red Butterfly, a club in the shadier side of town run by the French Mafia. There were 23 dead. I was there when the fight broke out. It was cause by a drunken argument and a gun accidentally going off. There were many wounded there. I couldn't help all of them and many of them are going to be out of work because of this. Poor them._

**November 28****th****, 1995**

_The dreams are getting odder. It's more than just a woman's screams, a madman's laughter, and a green flash of light now. There are men in black robes with bone masks. There are red lights and screams of children and adults alike. There are meetings, filled with people I don't know and yet feel so familiar with. It's odd, and I'm not sure what to make of it anymore. I also fear to speak to anyone about it for fear that they may think me mad._

**December 25****th****, 1995**

_Christmas is here again. It's another Christmas spent alone. I took no jobs today, just as I always do. I spent the day in my room with Esmeralda. She's such a good snake, even if she isn't much for conversation._

**January 10****th****, 1996**

_I get the feeling that something is going to happen soon. Terry agrees with me. I keep asking him if he's Seen anything but he simply grimaces and changed the subject. It worries me. Should I prepare for the worst?_

**February 2****nd****, 1996**

_I received news that there has been trouble with weapons shipments in the Asian underground. That doesn't look too good for us either. Lots of people in London rely on them for their weaponry. I'm lucky since I have a deal with an Italian supplier, but some of the people I work with are getting angry. It doesn't help that terrorist attacks have sprung up all over the place. Things are looking bleak and moods have fallen greatly._

The room was covered in shadows. The only window was covered with black curtains, the only light was the candles that slowly burned down. The room was simple but elegant. There was a desk in one corner made of dark cherry woods, a green couch and two chairs in front of a white marble fireplace, and a four poster bed made of the same wood as the desk with covers in a deep forest green. The wallpaper was white, the carpet was black. The room was quiet, beyond the quiet scratching of a pen on paper as a man, sitting at the desk, wrote in a leather bound journal.

The man sitting at the desk was beautiful, there was no other word for it. He was tall, but not overly so. His hair was black and straight and fell down below his waist, his eyes were an emerald green more vibrant than any other.

He paused in his writing and glanced at the snake that lay on his bed when it hissed. Then turned to look at the door just as a knock resounded in the room. He pursed his lips. Who could be visiting now? Not another job, he hoped, he had asked Stan the barman downstairs and his employer to lay off on the jobs for a while. Even an assassin as cold blooded as him needed a break once in a while.

He opened the door and was greeted by the sight of an old man in an odd purple and yellow suit that hurt to look at.

"Mr. Potter?" the man questioned.

The man frowned, "That's not my name anymore. I lost that name the day that my _dear_ caretaker sold me to the prostitution business. You call me Viper or Zeypher. Nothing else."

The old man bowed his head, "Zeypher then. Might I come in?"

Zeypher stepped to one side and allowed the man to come in. The man took a seat in one of the seats near the fireplace, Zeypher did the same.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I came to speak with you because I have reason to believe that you are a very special person."

Zeypher snorted, "What gave you that impression? The rumors that I can heal or kill with my touch? Or that I'm a well-known psychic around here?"

Dumbledore licked his lips, "Yes… I had heard of that. A few people in the area told me of that while I was looking for you. Well, I have reason to believe that you are the long lost child of a pair of dear friends of mine. Their names are Lilly and James Potter and they live with their son, your twin, in Godric's Hollow."

Zeypher tilted his head to one side, "If that's true, then why aren't they here with you to greet me? You'd think that if I'm their son that they'd come along to try and find me."

Dumbledore bowed his head, "James was injured in an attack and not allowed to leave his bed at the moment. Lilly is unable to leave his side and your Twin is currently at school. The school that I am Headmaster of. Which brings me to an important discussion I must have with you. Zeypher, many people day you have odd abilities. Might you describe them to me?"

Zeypher tilted his head a bit to one side and paused before answering, "I can move things without touching them, cause pain, heal, and hurt with just a touch, control fire to an extent, and speak to snakes."

Dumbledore stiffened, "Snakes?"

Zeypher narrowed his eyes, "Yes. Snakes. Is there something wrong with that?"

The snake on Zeypher's bed hissed at Dumbledore. Dumbledore frowned a bit then shook his head, "No. It is just an extremely rare ability among our kind."

Zeypher raised an eyebrow, "Our kind?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes. Our Kind. You're a Wizard, Zeypher. Your parents, twin, and I are wizards as well. I have come here to speak with you today about reuniting you with your family and to offer you a place at my school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were you might learn to control your talent."


	6. I Am

A boy not yet a man clutched his ears.

_"Look at itty bitty Potter. Sulking 'bout your parents again?"_

_"FREAK!"_

_"Yer' a Wizard, 'arry"_

He cried out, his hands gripping his long raven black hair tighter. He shut his eyes tighter. Why can't he block it out?

_"You won't leave me will you, brother?"_

_"Of course not. I'd never leave you."_

_"Help me! Salazar! HELP! It Hurts! BROTHER!"_

It hurt. It hurt so badly. These memories that swamped them all at once. He knew they were his but there were unfamiliar ones thrown in.

_ "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"_

_"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."_

_"To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."_

He dreamt. He dreamt of things that happened long ago. He dreamt of things that happened just now. Voices they echoed around in his head. Who was he? What was his name?

_"What's your name? Mine's Godric Gryffindor."_

_"So I was thinking. If there isn't a safe place for us, how about we build one?"_

_"It's wonderful! Look, Sal! We did this!"_

Fire. There was fire and blood and war. Screams and pleading and begging. An attack? The castle was flooded. There were wizards in black robes and bone masks. No… They were non-magicals carrying swords and axes and bows.

_"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."_

_ "Oh well... I'd just been thinking, if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet."_

_"Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."_

There was lights. Green and red and purple and yellow. So many colors. So many curses. When would it end? The sound of water. Where was he? The chamber?

_"Salazar stop!"_

_"Who am I to stay here any longer? I've lost everything."_

_"There is nothing more precious to us than this school and the ideas that it represents."_

And at last the pain stopped. The memories stopped replaying themselves in his mind. He was finally himself again. At last he had the answer to the question he had been asking himself the entire time.

_Who am I?_

_I am Harry Potter._

_I am Salazar Slytherin._


	7. Warm Summer Rain

Like a warm summer rain, blood fell down. It dripped from the walls and coated the ground. The tang of iron filled the air and mixed with the scent of tears and dust and sweat. Cries permeated the air as those who had lost loved ones hugged the fallen bodies close to them.

The war was over, but it didn't feel any different than when it still went on. They felt empty and all had a heavy sense of loss. No one had escaped the war unharmed. Not the dark. Nor the light. Everyone had lost friends, fathers, brothers, mothers, and sisters. They had lost husbands and wives and children. Muggle and magical. Old and young. Innocent and damned. Everyone was wounded or dead.

And in the middle of the misery and death and among the rubble of the fallen castle stood a singular man. He closed his eyes and cried and fell to his knees, clutching his head as grief swarmed him. Harry Potter was perhaps the one who lost the most.

Grime covered his face, cuts littered his body, his cloths were in tatters, his holly and phoenix feather wand lay snapped, and before him lay everyone whom he had loved. Almost no one had survived. Except for him.

Why always him?

He tried to block out to sounds of grief that played in the background like a sick symphony that reminded him of just what this war had cost them. He tried to block out the memories of his two best friends lying in each other's arms, both dead. He tried to block out memories of Nevil's head siting on a pike as a warning against attacking the death eater's camp. He tried to block out the memories of Seamus and Dean falling sick and slowly disappearing before him, but two victims of a cursed plague the dark had set on one of the light's training camps. He tried to block out the memories of his friends falling before him, one by one on till he was the last one left.

Always the last one left.

But even as he tried, he remembered. He remembered Hermione's voice telling him to do his homework and Ron laughing with him about Quiddich. He remembered long discussions in the common room with his fellow Gryffindors. He remembered their smiles and their frowns. He remembered their laughs and their screams. He knew their tears of both happiness and sadness. He knew their fears and their hopes.

And he could never forget.

How could he forget?

He remembered the others too. He remembered Snape, proud and strong even when facing certain doom after being found out as a spy fighting for the light. He remembered Sirius, with his barking laugh and huge grins and that sad smile he wore just before going off to save Remus from capture only to never come back. He remembered Flitwick who had protected a group of 2ndyears against a horde of Deatheaters singlehandedly for 3 days before being killed when they finally broke past him. He remembered Draco, a lover he had found in the most unlikely of places who stood up against his father and went against everything he had been taught to fight for what he believed to be right.

He remembered Ginny, Fred, George, Percy, Bill, Charley, Arthur, and Molly, Dumbledore, Moody, Kingsley, Tonks, Cedric and so many others.

So many names.

And yet so many more faces with no names at all.

And all of them left family behind.

He cried, he couldn't help it. Everything was finished, after so many years of war. So many years of fighting and suffering. So many years of fear and it was finally over. Only, he didn't have anyone to celebrate with. Everyone was already dead.

A hand landed on his shoulder but he didn't react.

"Harry?"

The voice that reached his ears sounded tiered beyond belief but still held that dreamy quality to it that it had held for as long as he had known her. Luna Lovegood was one of the few who had lived to see the aftermath, but she too had changed. No one was the same anymore.

"There is a way to save them."

Harry's eyes opened and he looked up at her, a disbelieving look in his eyes.

Luna smiled, her eyes full of sadness, her face showing the effects of nearly 20 years of war. She offered him and hand and, after a moment's hesitation, he took it and stood up. He looked into her eyes, searching for the truth that liked to hide behind the girl's odd words and expressions.

"You can go back. The wrackspurts said so. All you have to do is close your eyes and wish."

"Really?"

He breathed, nearly bursting into tears again.

Luna closed her eyes and gripped his hand tighter, "Close your eyes, Harry."

Harry closed his eyes. He pictured in his mind his first year at Hogwarts, before all the pain had washed down on him. He pictured first year, meeting Ron and Hermione, fighting the troll, seeing the Hagrid's dragon hatch, and fighting Quirrel. He smiled as he remembered those fond memories. That had been the very beginning. The start of everything.

**Do you wish to do back?**

_Yes._

A smile.

**Then go, dear child.**

And so in the year 2014, after 20 years at war with a madman, one Harry James Potter and one Luna Lovegood disappeared.

And in the year 1991, a little boy sleeping in the cupboard and a small blonde girl curled up in bed woke with a new sense of duty.

**…**

**Chapter 1**

**…**

Knuckles rapped on the door to the cupboard, "Get up, boy! You need to make breakfast."

Harry both grinned and grimaced at the sound of the familiar voice. He was back! Luna was right! He opened the door and got out. He went to the kitchen quickly and got out the ingredients he needed to make breakfast for his relatives. As he cooked he thought.

_What do I do now? I've somehow traveled back in time. How did I manage that? I need to defeat Voldemort sooner now. His Hocruxes must be destroyed…. Hocruxes!_ He stopped cooking for a moment then quickly resumed. He remembered the Hocrux in his scar. The accidental Hocrux. How does he get rid of that? He grimaced as he remembered their attempts the last time around. They found nothing that wouldn't kill him too. So what to do?

He set the table and served the food then went to collect the mail at Vernon's order. He quickly sifted through the mail and paused when he saw the Hogwarts letter. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen and, when he saw no one was looking, quickly stuffed the letter in his pocket. He then took the mail over to the table and handed it to Vernon. Leaving quickly, he hurried back to the safety of his cupboard.

He opened the letter and scanned it through, it was exactly the same as how he remembered it.

_'We await your Owl by July 31__st__'_

He blinked. _Oh right._ Then he searched through his cupboard for a pencil and a relatively clean sheet of paper. In his own neat, looping scrawl he wrote out a response.

_Dear Deputy Headmistress,_

_I accept the invitation to Hogwarts, however I require a bit of assistance. The relatives I live with are muggles and dislike everything having to do with magic. As such, it would be very difficult to get my supplies. Might you send someone to help me in this regard?_

_Thank you for your consideration,_

_Harry Potter_

He smiled to himself as he read it once over, and then remembered that he didn't have an owl to respond with. Maybe the owl that delivered the letter would still be around? He shook his head, No that wasn't very likely. He frowned, so how to get the letter to them? The regular mail? Not very likely either. He sighed; he supposed that he would have to hope that the owl that brings the Hogwarts letter would still be around.

"Boy! Get out here!"

He pocketed both letters and got out the cupboard and listened as Petunia gave him a list of chores to do for the day. Then he went about doing them, starting with the gardening so he could look for the owl. He went outside and started weeding while looking around and searching for the bird. Then he spotted it, sitting in the tree that Ripper used to chase him up. He gestured for the bird to fly down to him and the bird did. It landed on his outstretched arm and he smiled, "Hello there."

It hooted in response and stuck out a leg. He tied his response letter to it, "Take this the Deputy Headmistress McGonagall."

It hooted once more then flew off.

"Boy! What are you doing?! Get back to work!"

He grimaced and went back to doing chores.

**…**

"Albus! You must see this!"

"What is it, my dear?"

"A letter."

"Oh my."

"Oh my indeed."

**…**

Severus Snape was not a happy man. No, he was most definitely not a happy man. The beginning of the day he had spent going over some preparations for the year and managing a few delicate potions he was making in his spare time when he had received a summons from one Albus Dumbledore, self-proclaimed leader of the Light and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was told that he was to go and assist Harry Bloody Potter with his shopping, as Hagrid was unavailable for undisclosed reasons.

And so, Severus Tobias Snape found himself in a muggle neighborhood to meet the-Boy-Who-Lived.

He sneered in distaste at the neighborhood that prided itself in being normal. It was so utterly boring. _And this was where the brat grew up? _He walked up to # 4 Private Drive and knocked on the door. A woman, Petunia he remembered from his childhood memories, opened it, shrieked when she saw him, and slammed the door in his face. His irritation grew when he heard locks slide into place. A quick _Alohmora_ later and he was inside, only to be faced with the woman holding a frying pan like it was a sword.

"S-stay away!" She shrieked, "I won't have any of your kind in my house!"

"Really, Petunia?" He sneered her name, "Must you do this? I'm merely here to pick up the boy. School shopping."

"No! Get out! Out! Out! Out!" She screamed, waving the pan wildly.

"Aunt Petunia?" A small voice came from around the bend. He looked towards the voice and saw a tiny child with wild black hair wearing cloths 3 times too big.

Petunia turned, paled and started screeching again. Severus had had enough so he used a silencing charm on her and stalked over to the boy. The boy, Harry Potter he was now sure, looked up at him with wide eyes filled with something akin to surprise.

He took a moment to take the boy's appearance in. Potter was much too small for an 11 year old. If Severus hadn't known the boy's age he would have guessed him to be 8 or 9. His hair was inky black and seemed insistent at defying the law of gravity. He was thin, and the cloths he wore only served to accent how small he was. His eyes were the same color as Lilly's eyes, a green brighter and more brilliant than any emerald. He mentally frowned though when he noticed the look in the boy's eyes. They were not the eyes of a child. They held a darkness that he had rarely seen on any one's face other than those who had fought in the last war on the front lines. They spoke of horrors no child should ever have to see.

Nevertheless he but on his customary sneer and spoke, "Harry Potter, I presume? My name is Professor Severus Snape. I'm a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The headmaster sent me to help get your school things."

Potter seemed to get over his shock and slowly nodded his head, "Alright, Sir."

Severus turned back towards the door, "Come along then."

He didn't turn around to make sure the boy was following him, he could hear the quiet footsteps the boy had. He mentally frowned again, he was also much to light on his feet. But for now he ignored the nagging feeling he had in the back of his head and led the boy to an out of the way area near the neighborhood.

"Have you ever apparated before?" He questioned.

"Apparated, Sir?" The boy looked confused.

"Do you not know what apparition is?"

"No, Sir."

"It's a wizarding form of transportation. It's a bit like teleportation. Take my hand, I'll side-along apparate you."

The boy reached out without hesitation and took his outstretched hand. And with a loud _Crack_ the two were gone.

**…**

Harry had not expected Severus to be the one to pick him up. He had expected Hagrid to show up, just like the last time around. But, he smiled to himself, it wouldn't be bad to spend his 'first' time in Diagon Alley with Severus. Maybe he could convince his old- ahem _new_- potions master to not hate him this time around. He would have to be careful though, he didn't want to reveal anything about him being from the future just yet.

The two arrived in the alley next to the Leaky Cauldron. Severus went inside without preamble. He headed to the back and tapped the brick wall in the right places so that the wall moved aside.

Harry's eyes widened as he spotted the familiar alley and he did his best to look awed and not reveal the turmoil of emotions inside him.

Diagon Alley had been destroyed in a Death Eater raid a little over 10 years after the war had started. George had been at the alley at the time and had barely managed to fight off the Death Eaters long enough for close to 100 people to escape. He was killed that day. They hung his body on a cross in the middle of the ruins of the alley to give a message to the light.

Harry mentally shook his head to clear his mind of the memories and followed Severus as he walked to Gringotts. The trip to his vault was just as he had remembered it. They grabbed the money required and then made their way through the alley, buying the appropriate things. They stopped at the book store to pick up his school books, they picked up a trunk to carry his things, they stopped by Madam Madkins to get his school robes, and they stopped by the apothecary to by potion ingredients. Harry made sure to look enthusiastic about potions, and he was. The last time around he hadn't been able to put too much focus into the subject and now that he got to do everything again, he fully intended to look more into the topic. Finally, they stopped at Ollivanders.

Ollivanders hadn't changed this time around either, it was the same dusty store filled to the brim with wands as before.

"Hello?" Harry called out.

"Good afternoon."

Harry started and turned around to see Ollivander standing there. Snape merely raises an eyebrow at the old man.

"Ah yes. Yes, yes. I had thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes, you know. It seems like only yesterday that she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inch long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." The man got a faraway look in his eyes when he spoke, going on about his parents wands, "Your Father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven Inches, Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I'd say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the Wizard, of course."

The man smiled sadly and seemed to switch gears in a moment, "Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?"

"My right one," Harry said, holding said arm out. Soon measuring tapes were out and about and measuring every which thing. Meanwhile, Ollivander had gone off to fetch a bunch of boxes and lay them out on the counter. The tape measure disappeared and Ollivander held out the first of many wands to come. "Try this one."

As Harry waved the wands given to him, he made a game of counted every smashed pot, broken glass, and explosion that followed. By the 34th wand, the score was. 10 broken vases, 13 explosions, 6 instances of fire, 2 times that the counter broke, and 3 times the window cracked. Finally, Ollivander went off to find Harry's old wand.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand and smiled when he felt a familiar warmth spread down his arm. He gave it a wave and grinned when green and red sparks flew out the end of the wand.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . ."

Harry looked up at Ollivander and tilted his head a bit to one side, "What's curious, might I ask?"

Ollivander straightened and looked at harry with an unnerving stare, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry widened his eyes as he listened.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter . . . . After all, He-who-must-not-be-named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

"How much for the wand?" Severus interrupted, for that much Harry was grateful.

"Seven Galleons." Ollivander responded.

Severus handed over the required amount and the two left the shop.

**…**

When they were walking back to the Leaky Cauldron and Muggle London, Harry remembered that he wasn't supposed to know about the war. So he tried his best to look innocent and tugged on the sleeve of Severus' robe.

"Um… Professor?"

Severus paused and looked down at Harry, "Yes?" he sneered.

"Who…. Who is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? And what did Ollivander mean about my scar? I… I got my scar in a car accident when my parents died."

Severus's eyes widened just a tad and he practically hissed, "Not here."

He stalked back into the Leaky Cauldron and asked the bartender for a privet room. Then he lead Harry to the backroom where he turned on Harry with one of the most intense expression that Harry had even seen on the potions master.

"What do you mean, 'died in a car crash'?"

Harry tried to look confused, "My Aunt and Uncle told me my parents died in a car crash. They said that's where I got my scar…. What's wrong, sir?"

Severus frowned and straightened, "Your parents most definitely did not die in a _car crash_. They were killed, murdered by a madman. 10 years ago, The Wizarding World and the 'light' had been in a war that had lasted for many years. The other side, or the 'Dark' as it was called, was led by a man that no one dares to speak the name of. The people of the Wizarding World call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. To put it frankly, the light was losing. That was, until he decided to attack the Potters. He attacked you on Halloween. He killed your father first, right at the door. Then went up the stairs and killed your mother. But, when he turned his wand on you and cast the killing curse it somehow rebounded and killed him instead, leaving you unharmed except for your scar. In the Wizarding World you're regarded as a hero because of this. You're called The-Boy-Who-Lived."

"Is… Is that why there were book with my name on them? Back at the book store?"

"Yes. There are many books on the Dark Lord's defeat. There are many books on you and the life you supposedly lead. There is even a popular children's series called Harry Potter's Adventures"

Harry's eyes widened, "But… Then my parents didn't die in a car crash? The Dursleys lied to me?"

Severus frowned, "Apparently so." He drawled, then he paused, "Can you tell me more about these Durselys?"

Harry hesitated, then saw the logic in telling Severus. Maybe if he told him he wouldn't have to go back? That would certainly help him allot. It would mean he could practice his magic unhindered, "Well they aren't very… Nice. Aunt Petunia always gives me lots of chores even though Dudley, my cousin, doesn't have to do anything. Uncle Vernon doesn't do much but scream at me and…." He hesitated again. He didn't have to fake not liking talking about the Durselys. He hated thinking about the way the family had abused him, and would abuse him if he didn't do something about it. He rubbed a scar on his right arm, one Vernon had given him when he was 9, as he continued, "Sometimes when I do things he doesn't like it and…" He grimaced, "hits me."

He continued to describe the abuse the Durleys had given him, and all the while Severus was looking more and more pale. He talked about how they didn't like to feed him and that his room was the cupboard under the stairs. He talked about how Pentunia sometimes forgot to let him inside at the end of the day and about Marge's visits and her dog. He told him everything, omitting only the worst memories. When he finished, Severus was silent for a while. Then,

"Can you take off your shirt for me?"

Harry was surprised, but he complied. He took off the shirt that covered his scars. He was covered in them, from neck down. There were knife marks, and grease burns, and scars from the belt that Vernon used to beat him with. The worst of them was the words that Vernon had carved into him. The word 'USELESS' on his shoulder, 'FREAK' on his stomach, and 'MONSTER' across his back.

Severus had started to look a bit green as Harry wrapped his arms around himself. He bit his lips before saying, "Put your shirt back on."

Harry did, as quickly as he could. Severus, meanwhile, had started pacing. He looked pensive and Harry could tell, after years of knowing the man, that he was very distraught. Then he suddenly stopped, "I'm going to speak to the headmaster about this. In the meantime, you are not going back to _that place_," He spat, "I'll rest you a room here in the leaky cauldron. You can stay here on till the start of the term or on till I can make better living arrangements for you."


	8. The First Time that Tom Marvolo Riddle

The first time Tom Marvolo Riddle ever used magic was when he was but a few months old. There were two other babies at the orphanage at the time, both just a little older than he. They were constantly crying. And so, Tom Riddle used a silencing charm. The caretakers at the orphanage walked in one day to find the other two babies crying, but not making a sound, and Tom Riddle fast asleep with a content look on his face. That was the beginning of the caretaker's distrust of him.

The first time that Tom Marvolo Riddle ever spoke to a snake was when he was 3 years old. He was sitting quietly in the playroom of the orphanage when he spotted a snake that had managed to get in. The snake slithered over to him and Tom, in his innocence of the time, hissed a hello at it and was delighted when he got a response. That was Tom's very first friend.

The first time that Tom Marvolo Riddle ever was beaten by the other children for not being 'normal' he was when he was 5 years old. They had caught him talking to Serina, the snake that was Tom's only friend. And so they surrounded him and beat him. They beat him on till he couldn't move and he could only see stars. That was the beginning of Tom's hatred for others.

The first time that Tom Marvolo Riddle ever hurt another human was when he was 6 years old. One of the other children found Serina, killed her, and left her on Tom's bed. Tom found out who had killed her and wished for that person to hurt too. At that moment, his magic made the boy trip and fall down the stairs and break his arm. That was the moment Tom realized he could do more than just talk to snakes.

The first time that Tom Marvolo Riddle ever killed anything was when he was 7 years old. Billy Stubbs had been a menace ever since he had been left at the orphanage and Tom was sick of it. So he used his newly reigned powers and hung Billy's Rabbit from the rafters. That was when the other children grew scared of Tom.

The first time that Tom Marvolo Riddle ever saw Albus Dumbledore was when he was 11 years old. The man came in and told Tom that he was a wizard. He set Tom's wardrobe on fire and told him to give back the things he had stolen. And so Tom found out about the Wizarding World. That was the moment that Tom got his first ideas of being an important person in the world. That was the moment that Tom resolved to be great.


	9. Marionette and his Master

Harry sighed.

He was tiered of this, he really was. He was tiered of the constant fear that he'd slip up and be blamed for something again. And so

Harry sighed.

Harry was hiding up in a tree. It was not even 30 minutes after school and he had already been forced to hide the one place his cousin could never go, the trees. Like most people, Harry had found, Dudley never bothered to look _up_. And so he and his gang wandered around the park aimlessly in an attempt to find him.

Harry shifted, then grimaced. Mistake. His ribs still hurt from the beating that Vernon had given him yesterday because Dudley had knocked over one of a plates and it had broken. It was better than yesterday though, in the moments after the beating he had been pretty sure that at least one of his ribs were broken. That wasn't so now.

For as long as Harry could remember, meaning the 5 or so years he had spent at the Dursleys, Harry had always been _different_. He healed quickly, really quickly, and he could make things _happen_. There was this one time that he turned his teacher's hair blue. There was another that he ended up on the school roof when he was being chased (he still remembered the particularly bad treatment after that incident). And yet another time that Petunia had cut off all his hair only for it to grow back the next day.

And so, Harry knew he was different. How so? He wasn't entirely sure. He didn't have a name for what he could do. He mused that maybe he was like one of those superheroes from the comics Dudley loved to read.

Or look at the pictures.

After all, Dudley didn't read. He was too stupid for that.

Harry sighed.

Harry wished that something interesting would happen soon. He hated this daily routine of get up, cook food you're not allowed to eat, do chores that no one else does, get beaten for no reason or because you 'did something freakish', and get locked in the cupboard again. He hated that he was treated like this. Why couldn't someone see that he was being hurt?

But no one ever did.

And so, Harry was alone.

Harry sighed.

"And what might you be doing up in a tree at this time of day, kid?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin and turned abruptly to the space next to him. Crouching next to him was one of the strangest men Harry had ever seen. The man, had he been standing up, would have been just a tad shorted than average height. He had short bright golden blond hair. His eyes were covered with some sort of white bandage. Around his neck was an Honest-to-God collar with actual _chains_ hanging from it. He wore a black hoody with the hood up and an open grey trench coat over that (never mind the fact that it was nearly June and hot outside) His pants were black jeans and his shoes were black converse. His smile was wide stretched and sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"Wh-what?" Harry stammered.

"What are you doing in the tree? I don't see many kids hiding in trees."

Never mind the fact that the man couldn't possibly see with the bandages covering his eyes.

"I-"

Harry was saved from answering when another man came.

"Marionette? What are you doing up there? Stop tormenting the poor kid and get down here."

Harry turned to look at the new arrival standing at the base of the tree. This man was very tall, had long black hair and dark grey eyes, and had an all-in-all regal look about him. He too wore a trench coat, but his was black and closed.

The man crouching next to Harry on the branch, Marionette apparently, pouted down at the man, "Do I have too~? He seems so _interesting _though!"

"No. Get down here. We have to get going." The man scolded.

Marionette shook his head, "Na ah! I'm not leaving this one!"

Marionette wrapped his arms around Harry and clung onto him. Harry winced at the action, as it aggravated his still healing wounds. Marionette froze when Harry flinched. He then slowly turned his head to look down at the child in his arms and sniffed.

Fucking stiffed.

"You smell like blood." He stated, as if talking about the weather.

"Blood?" The man on the ground raised an eyebrow.

"I- er… I injured myself yesterday." Harry looked away from the pair, trying to think how he had gotten himself into this weird situation anyways.

Marionette suddenly moved, faster than Harry had seen anyone move, and pulled Harry's oversized shirt over his head. It revealed the many scars that Harry had amassed through the years and the bruising from yesterday's beatings. Marionette frowned then stood abruptly. He picked Harry up like he weighed nothing and jumped down from the tree, grinning at the man waiting at the bottom as he did so.

"So?" the man questioned.

Marionette responded with something Harry didn't understand. The man furrowed his eyebrows and grimaced, "Yes, that does sound bad… Hey kid, would you like to come with us?"

Harry blinked and stared at the man from where he was in Marionette's arms, "What?"

Then he man seemed to remember something and smiled, "Ah! I almost forgot. My name is Alexander Mercado. The man holding you is Marionette. We travel a lot, looking for things and doing odd jobs. Marionette seems to have taken a liking to you and clearly your home life leaves something to be desired. So. That leads me to my question. Would you like to come with us?"

Harry stared at the man, Alexander, for a moment longer as he thought it over. Wasn't this exactly what he had wished for? For something new to happen in his life?

Then he smiled, "Sure. I'll come with you."

And then Harry's life living with Alexander and Marionette began.

**…**

It had been 5 years since he had started traveling with Alexander and Marionette, and since then a great many things had changed for him. For one, he learned the true identity of Marionette.

A demon.

Marionette was a Demon.

Apparently Marionette had served the Mercado family for generations and as Alexander had come of age and his father, the only other person in the family with the blood necessary to be bound to the demon, was dead, Marionette had been passed onto him. Alexander had never been one for family politics, as was family custom, or staying in one place for too long so first chance Alexander got, he had left his family's home in southern Italy and started moving from city to city. He picked up skills and trinkets and information as he went along and, all in all, he did whatever he wanted.

Harry, having traveled with Alexander and Marionette for 5 years, did the same. In the time that he had stent with the demon and its master he had learned a total of 7 languages other than English. Alexander had been impressed, but Harry _had_ had a little help. Magic was an amazing thing.

Another thing that had happened was that Harry finally had a name for his abilities. Magic. It was wondrous, finally being able to give it a name. Marionette had told him it. Marionette had seen Harry doing some magic one day, a little over two weeks after Harry had joined the group, and sat down with Harry and told him everything. He found out about being a Wizard, about the wizarding world, about the schools he could go too, and so much more. Alexander, after finding out, had sent Marionette off to find more recent information and, two months later, Harry had found out about Voldemort.

Marionette had found it hilarious. Alexander had not been amused. But after a long night of discussion, two days of arguing, and one day of ignoring each other, Marionette had promised Harry that should Harry ever have a problem with this 'Dark Lord' (Marionette snickered every time he said that) that all he would have to do was call him and he would come. Alexander had been surprised at the declaration, as he had always found the demon to be a 'go with the flow' type of person and not someone who would say something like that. Well _that_ and there was the fact that Marionette was found to Alexander too…. But! Alexander still agreed whole heartedly.

Years passed by and Harry had a lot of fun hanging out with the eccentric pair and learning all their quirks. Eventually Alexander had done something Harry had never expected the man to do. He edited his contract with Marionette so that should he ever die, Marionette would go to Harry.

Harry had been honored, and a bit scared at the same time. He questioned Alexander why he did such a thing and Alexander had simply smiled and responded with, "I've come to think of you as a son. And… I get the feeling that this won't last forever. At least not for me."

It had left Harry confused, but Harry still left it alone. A year after that and Harry regretted that decision immensely. They had been in northern China when they had been attacked by a gang in the area. Marionette had been away at the time, following an order Alexander had given the demon, and thus Harry and Alexander had been forced to fight alone on till Marionette could get there. In the end, the demon _did_ get there, but not in time. Alexander had been fatally hurt and passed away 2 days later. His last words to Harry were 'Don't ever let anything stop you, kid. Keep on moving forward and never stop doing what you believe in. Trust your own judgment. If you do, you can do anything."

Harry cried himself to sleep that night and spend the next week in mourning. Marionette led Harry do as he wished, but otherwise seemed unaffected by the death of the master he had served for over 30 years. When Harry finally snapped out of it, Marionette and he began traveling again as if nothing had changed. Alexander's death had been 4 months ago. Now Harry sat on a bench in the park with Marionette sitting next to him. In his hands, Harry held a letter that he had expected ever since he was 6 years old and found out about the wizarding world through Marionette.

**_…_**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL**

**_of _****WITCHCRAFT****_ and _****WIZARDRY**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

**_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_**

**Dear Mr. Potter,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.**

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall**

**_Deputy Headmistress._**

**_…_**

He showed the letter to Marionette and Marionette just snickered.

"Do you know where I can get an owl?"

"Of course. Diagon alley."

"Can you take me there?"

"Yes."

Marionette rose and offered a hand to Harry, "Shall we go?"

Harry took the hand and grinned, "So we shall."


	10. White Flowers

_White flowers always bloom_

A baby's cry sounded just mere moments before the clock sounded midnight on July 31st. Two happy parents smiled and looked relieved, clutching a child close to their chest.

_Under the threat of the full moon_

Outside the hospital the wind blew through the trees in whispering, magic chattered excitedly at the birth of a prophesized one, and the full moon shone proudly.

_And quickly they are tainted a sinful red_

"Please no! Take me instead! Anyone but Harry!" A woman pleaded, backed up against the crib that held the tiny baby.

_A color of so many things …._

"_Avada kedavra_!" There was a flash of green light then the sound of an explosion. A man turned to black mist and a baby fell unconscious from pain.

_Betrayal follows him around_

"You don't mean – you can't mean the people who live _here_? Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people less like us. They're the worst sort of muggles!"

_Like a shadow that won't leave him._

"Who? Oh, him? He's Harry Potter. The weird kid. He always sits by himself and never says much. He's creepy though. When you're around him you can hear things. Strange things…"

_The only one whom he can count on_

"You're a freak! Daddy! The freaks doing something again!" Dudley yelled Dudley. Harry cowered as Vernon came over, purple in the face and fuming.

_Why that would be death._

"W-who are you?" Harry breathed, looking up at the shadowy form before him. "Me? I, dear child, I am Death."

_And so he with scars covering him_

Harry stood in front of the shower. He took off his shirt and caught a look at himself in the mirror. He was covered in large and small white marks. Knife marks, belt marks, burn marks. The worst of it was the word that had been carved into his chest. _FREAK_ it said. He shuddered and looked away.

_Must make a choice on another's whim_

Harry crouched up in the tree and looked down at Marge's Dog. He frowned then started crying, curling up into a ball. It wasn't long before he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Death had arrived, just like he always did, to try and comfort him.

_Where he will choose the fate of those_

"Death?" "Hm?" "Why do you always come to comfort me?" "Well… I'm afraid I can't answer that. At least, not yet. Wait a little while, then you'll find out the answer."

_Who have tormented him for so long.…_

"Yer a Wizard, 'arry." The man, Hagrid, said. Harry stared at him for a bit, then smiled and started laughing and crying at the same time.

_White flowers always bloom_

_Under the threat of the full moon_

_And quickly they are tainted a sinful red_

_A color of so many things …._

Magic watched as a young child read his letter, who was barely able to because his hands were shaking that badly. She hoped the child would be alright. He should be, for she would help him and Death had taken a likening to him as well. But there would be many dark years to come. She dearly hoped that the child that had two prophecies surrounding him would do alright.


	11. Izuna and Inari

The world around them had disappeared. That always happened when the two of them fought.

_Clang!_

Swords struck each other as the pair of men chanced after one another in a dance that others could have no hope of joining. One jumped backwards and waved his hand in a wide ark, fire forming at his fingertips. The fire swirled around the man once then speed towards the other. The other retaliated with a wall of water. Then the two were at it once more.

_Swang!_

_Clish!_

_Clang!_

The pair grinned at one another, this was what they lived for. In every life they had been reborn into the two had always fought. Every time they were born in the middle of conflict. And every time they found themselves on opposite sides of the war. And every time they were sent to fight one another as only they could match each other's power.

_Swish!_

_Boom!_

_Bang!_

One of them rushed forward and the other complied in turn. They each gripped their swords and ran each other through.

They stared one another in the eye and both broke out laughing, which quickly degenerated into coughing. The two collapsed next to one another.

"Inari?" One of them asked.

"Yes, Izuna?" The other responded in kind.

"This life was good. Let's hope the next one is just as good."

Inari smiled up at the sky, "Hey, Izuna?"

"Hm?"

"How about the next time around we try working together? We've fought in all 376 lives so far and never have we worked together. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we didn't fight one another?"

"Work together, eh? That's an interesting idea. Alright then… How about this. Next we see each other let's take over the world in the only way we know how."

"Yeah…. I'd like that… Izuna?"

"Hm?"

"Good night."

"Good night Inari."

The two died, Inari and Izuna, they took their last breath and looked forward to the next life where they would be born again.

….

Inari took his first breath and looked around him. His vision hadn't come in yet so all he could make out was blurry shapes. He heard laughter and congratulations.

"What will his name be, do you think?"

"Harry. His name will be Harry James Potter."

Harry? So that was his name this time? It sounded European. He must have been born west this time. Last life he was born in southern China. The time before that was North Africa. Before that it had been the Americas. It had been quite a while since his last life in Europe. He wondered what the time period was. Their lives tended to jump around a bit. One in the 1600s the next in the early 200s. He could never really tell. But there was hospitals, he knew that much by the smell in the air. It stunk of antiseptics and cleaning charms.

At least it was a magical family this time around. It sucked when he was born into a mundane one. He usually ended up running away on till he could find a family that knew about the culture he had enjoyed for the past 800 years or so.

…

Britain. Apparently he was in Britain. And the year was 1980. His birthday this time around was July 31st, 1980. His mother's name was Lilly. She was a pretty woman with bright red hair and green eyes. Apparently he had her eyes. His father was James Potter, a proud Gryffindor man with black hair and hazel eyes.

There was a war going on, that much he could gleam from what little conversation he had overheard. But then again, when wasn't there a war going on in whatever era he lived in? There was always something happening. There was always fighting and bloodshed. And he preferred it that way, too. When there was war he was never bored. There was always something to do, be it mercenary work, assassinations, planning, or raids. Something was always happening and after all the years that he had lived and fought, he didn't care about the lives that were lost in the fighting. What mattered was the adrenalin flowing through his veins as he burned down enemy camps and fought against those whom stood against him.

His life was alright, he supposed. At the moment there wasn't much to do other than listen in on his parents whenever they spoke about something interesting or pretend to be a child. But he could wait, he had before and would again. He just had a few more years before he could pick up a sword again.

…

A prophecy. There was a fucking prophecy.

He sighed.

He hated prophecies, always had and always would. In his first life he had found them foolish. In his second he found them annoying. In every life since them he avoided them at all costs. He stayed away from seers too, as they tended to freeze up around him and start muttering about death and two souls and destruction. Annoying much?

He sighed again.

He hadn't heard the prophecy itself just yet, everyone was extremely close lipped about it, but he knew that there was a 'Chosen One' that was supposed to defeat the 'Dark Lord' one day. He honestly didn't give a damn about it other than for one reason.

Izuna.

Izuna had always believed prophecies to hold some truth. If he was the 'Dark Lord' as he suspected him to be then Izuna would try and eliminate the 'Chosen One' as soon as possible. On the upside, that meant that he would be able to see Izuna sooner. Now he just had to figure out a way to let Izuna know that it was him…..

….

"Take Harry and Run!"

Harry heard James shout.

Lilly grabbed him and carried him up the stairs she set him in the crib and whispered sweet nothings to him on till the door was blasted open.

"NO!" She screamed, "NOT HARRY! ANYONE BUT HARRY!"

"Stand aside woman. You need not die tonight. I'd but here to check something."

The man who walked in through the door was tall and aged. He looked around 45 years of age, but you could never really tell with Wizards. His hair was short and brown and styled in a fashionable way for the age. His robes were completely black and in his hand, pointed at Lilly Potter was a wand made of yew.

"NO!" She yelled again, raising her arms in a protective way.

"_Avada kedavra._" He hissed and Lilly dropped dead.

_Ah… She's dead. Hm… I guess I won't have a mother this time around._ Harry mused to himself.

"Inari?" The man questioned as he looked at Harry.

Harry broke out into a grin. He wanted to say 'the one and only!' but with the limited language capabilities that he had at this stage in his development, he settled for, "Izuna?"

The man grinned, "I knew it was you. Harry Potter, huh? This time around I'm called Tom Riddle. I usually go by Voldemort though."

"Tom Riddle?"

Izuna, Tom Riddle, nodded, "Yup. Do you want me to take you now? Or do you want me to wait for you to grow up a bit. I know how you enjoy growing up on your own."

"Grow up alone."

"Alright, if that's what you want, then I'll leave you too it."

Izuna turned to walk away but Inari thought of something, "Wait."

Tom stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow, "Hm?"

"Pause war. Wait for me. Want fun too."

Tom smiled, "You want me to stop my war and wait for you to grow up? No way. I'm not waiting for you."

"We had deal."

Tom tilted his head to one side then sighed, "Fine. How about this then? We fake my death here then start up a second coming when you get to your school years."

Harry nodded, "Deal."

Tom grinned, "Then let's fake my death. Why not use the prophecy to put a spin on it too?"

...

That day the Wizarding World celebrated, thinking that they were rid of the dark lord forever. How little did they know just how wrong they were….


	12. Harry Hibari!

Crossover with _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!_

_..._

Harry had lost count how many lives he had lived since dying the first time, oh so long ago. He didn't really have an explanation for it either, being reborn that is. He supposed it had something to do with the Hollows, but he could never be sure. He had never meet an entity named Death or had some cosmic being come and tell him that he couldn't truly die.

He had never really experienced Death either. Sure he had died so many different ways but he could never remember what death felt like, because the moment that he took his last breath in one world, he took his first in another.

In the many lives he had lived, he had been a large assortment of different types of people. He had been a king, a farmer, a singer, a musician, a shooter, a martial artist, a criminal, and a hero. He had been both male and female and had long since discarded any sense of gender. He had lived to be old, he had died young, he had killed thousands, and he had saved even more. He had seen all sorts of lands and lives on all sorts of worlds. He had all sorts of appearances and had spoken all sorts of languages. And even now, he remembered every single one. He remembered all the fighting styles he had learned, all the books he had read, all the people he had meet, and all the places he had been. He had his favorites of course, but he remembered.

This time he had been born on May 5th in a small town called Nanimori to a family that called themselves Hibari. They named him Kyoya.

His family lived in an old Japanese style house on the outskirts of town and they kept to themselves mostly. Harry was left on his own much of the time after they figured he was old enough to take care of himself and it wasn't considered strange if he didn't see his parents for months at a time.

His mother this time around was a proud woman with black hair and steely grey eyes that hailed from China. She was stern and cold and a stickler for the rules, but Harry had seen her smile in the most beautiful way when she thought no one was looking. She was an expert at wielding knives and moved with a grace, Harry recognized, that only trained killers could move with.

His Father on the other hand was a stern man with black hair and blacker eyes that worked in the police force. He was never home and when he was, the first thing he did was go and get a drink. Harry quickly grew to dislike his father and stayed away from him when he could.

He was an only child and grew up mostly independent, the sole exception being Kusakabe, a slightly distant cousin of his, who seemed to follow him around everywhere.

Using his Father's connections, Harry decided to take up fighting with Tonfas this time around. He hadn't used them yet in any of his past lives, although he had used a large variety of other weapons (Everything from Guns to Handcuffs).

Life was alright for the most part. People didn't bug him, and he stuck to his own, preferring silence over the company of others. He had intended to continue to live this way, but an incident occurred that made him think otherwise.

Kyoya was 5 years old the first time that gang members attacked him after he stepped in to help someone else they were harassing. He beat them up, leaving them nearly dead, and then turned to look at the person whom they had been harassing. The person he saw, made him freeze up.

_Giotto?_

Over the course of Harry's many lives, he had met a great many people. He had seen people more evil than Voldemort and Kinder than anything he thought possible. And now, here was a boy who looked almost exactly like one of those kind people he had met. The little boy had brown hair that stuck up in every direction and large doe like eyes. The shape of his face, the hair, the build of the boy's body, it all looked the same as the man who had convinced him to join a vigilante group in the vain hope that it would help with the corruption in Italy.

The boy looked up at Kyoya and smiled brightly at him, "Thank you!"

Then he had run off, leaving a very shocked Harry behind. Harry watched the boy run off, before feeling his lips quirk up into a smile. He started laughing out loud in a way he had never done before in this life. It felt good to laugh like that. That day, Harry had gone home and thought about that life he had lived. The life under the name Alaude.

The next morning, he had run into another group of yakuza who immediately went to confront him. He looked up at them, unimpressed, and decided to pick up a few of his habits from his old life. What was it that he used to say? Oh right….

"I'll bite you to death."

That was the beginning of Hibari Kyoya's reign of terror in Nannimori.


	13. The Varia's Pet Wizard

Crossover with _Katekyo Hitman Reborn!_

_..._

This wasn't what they were expecting.

10 years previous, Harry Potter had been left at the Dursley's to be raised and cared for in their household. Dumbledore and the others expected to come back, 10 years later, to find someone just like James but with Lilly's eyes.

That wasn't what happened.

The boy that sat before them - them being Dumbledore, Mcgonagall, and Snape – Was nothing like either James or Lilly in anything other than eye and hair color. He sat with his back straight, face generally void of emotions, with a very proud and, dare they say it, _pureblood_ air around him. His hair was long and straight, he wore no glasses, his skin was pale (as if he never saw the light of day) and his body held a hidden strength in the way he stood. He wore a black jacket, white fur lining around the hood, and a crest with the word _'Varia'_ on it, all in a similar style to those who sat around Harry.

"You were saying?" Drawled Harry, raising an eyebrow at the wizards in obvious annoyance.

Yep. Not what they were expecting at all.

….

Harry was 4 when the Varia found him sitting in an alleyway near the building for one of their jobs. It was Belphegor that found him first, wandering into the alley for seemingly no reason after the job was finished. He saw the little boy, sitting there silently and staring up at Belphegor with defiance in his eyes.

Bel had laughed (Ushishishishi) and taken him back with him, stating that he wanted a new 'kitten' as the reason for bringing him. It was 2 weeks later, when they found out that the boy had unusually strong cloud flames for his age (and a minor affinity for mist), that they decided to train the boy and truly welcomed him into the fold. Since then, Harry became the official 'Pet' of the Varia.

Not even 2 years later, and no one in the Varia could imagine their life any different.

The only problem was Harry's name. Harry didn't know his, the Dursley's never called him anything other than freak or boy after all, so they had taken to calling him 'Kitten' while they looked to see if they could find out who Kitten was.

They never found anything. It puzzled them, there were no birth records, school records, or anything else out there. Kitten didn't match any missing child records either. Officially, Kitten never existed.

So they kept calling him Kitten, and that became his name.

Kitten lived with all the Varia members at one point or another, they sort of rotated who had to take care of him based on who had missions at the time. As such, Kitten knew all of the Varia really well, and could mimic their personalities and (to an extent) their fighting styles. It was hilarious to see their faces the first time he mimicked Belphegor. They all taught him various things; hand-to-hand combat, Cooking, sword fighting, shooting, accounting, illusions, knife throwing, traps, flame usage, weapons care, and tactics just to name a few.

It didn't take long for Kitten to become terrifying.

When Kitten turned 7, they started taking him out on missions too, deeming him to finally be Varia Quality. 2 year after that, after a loooong list of successful missions, Kitten was deemed worthy to be given a ring. When it had been given to him, he had been ecstatic and had grinned like a maniac for days afterwards.

Since then, Kitten had found himself a firm place in the squad as the infiltration specialist. He was a genius with disguises and mimicking people almost perfectly after speaking to them for only a few moments. This talent, they found, was great for missions and tended to wreak havoc when it came to at headquarters. People had to be careful to check if the person they were speaking to was actually that person, or if it was Kitten trying to pass the time by mimicking people.

Nearly 2 years after Kitten first got the ring, the Varia got a strange letter by _Owl _of all things talking about a magic school. Obviously, they didn't believe it and burned the letter. 2 weeks after that (after being bombarded by at least 4 hundred of the same letter) the Varia found themselves seated across from one old woman, one old man, and one middle aged man.

"You were saying?" Kitten drawled at the 'wizards'.


	14. My King

**_The World of Darkness isn't Scary._**

_It's beautiful._

_The dark world…_

_I'm not afraid of it._

_There aren't bombs._

**_This Person Too…_**

_There aren't red men._

_This dark man…._

**_…is from the Dark Side._**

**_That's why he's not Scary._**

_I'm not afraid of him._

….

A man sat up in bed, the white silk sheets pooling at his waist to show off an impressively muscled chest. He raised a pale hand and covered his eyes, taking a moment for a deep breath. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the expensively decorated room. After a few moments he got out of bed, running a hand through his shoulder length wavy black hair and licking his lips. He pulled on a black bath robe that was placed on his bedside table and headed out the door to move on with the day.

It was the same as any other day, quiet and at the same time not. If you strained your ears you could head sounds coming from behind the locked doors, but most wouldn't pay attention. It wasn't their business to know what was happening there.

The man continued down the hall, onyx colored eyes glancing over the occasional maid that he passed by as he made his way to the balcony. He opened the door and took a step outside, his bare feet meeting the cold stone of the floor and his pale face gaining a slight flush from the chilled air.

He walked over to a table with only one chair and collapsed down into it. His gaze went up to look at the night sky as he absentmindedly accepted a cigarette and a light from a stoic blond haired maid.

"What shall it be today, Master?" She asked, her voice pleasant even if her face didn't match it.

"Hmm?" he mused out loud, "The usual I suppose." His deep voice droned, "And… Perhaps a glass of wine. I'm expecting _him_ to arrive soon after all."

"Yes, Master." She intoned before leaving to carry out his orders.

In the meantime, the man took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching the smoke rise up towards the stars. He sat there and waited patiently.

Finally, another man arrived, the only sign of his arrival being the slight flickering of the smoke. The figure had long platinum blonde hair that was pulled back into a complicated braid and still fell past his waist and pale blue eyes that looked like chips of ice. The man wore a long white fur lined coat that fell to the man's knees and white boots.

The black haired man rolled his eyes lazily over to the blonde, "You're early." He commented.

The blonde only smiled, a kind smile to most but the black haired man could see the cruel edge to it, "How could I not be? I'm meeting the Lord of Vampires after all." His smile widened into a grin, flashing fang as he did so.

The black haired lord of Vampires tilted his head, his bored and almost impassive expression never leaving his face, "Perhaps." He said airily.

The blonde then bowed deeply, getting down on one knee. His face was shadowed by a few loose strands of nearly white hair covered his eyes, "My king." He intoned respectfully.

The black haired man lifted a foot, holding it out in front of the blonde who took it and kissed the toes. Then the blonde let go and looked up at the black haired man. He tilted his head and smiled again, "The preparations are complete."

The black haired man's eyes flashed red for a brief moment before a smirk slid out across his features. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up to look at the sky again, "Ho? So they are finally finished?"

"They are indeed, my King."

The maid came back then, caring two wine glasses filled with two completely different red liquids. The king of vampires snuffed out his cigarette on the table and held out a hand for one of the glasses. One was handed to him, the other being placed on the table. The black haired man brought the glass to his lips, enjoying the taste of the virgin's blood contained within the glass.

The blond haired male stayed silent, still kneeled at his king's feet as he watched his master drink. When the glass was empty he set it on the table, licking his lips with his slightly forked tongue. He picked up the glass containing wine and swirled the red purple liquid around in the glass.

"Tell me, Aleron… How long has it been since then?" The black haired male asked, never taking his eyes from the wine.

The blond haired man, Aleron he was called, tilted his head, "Over 2 thousand years, my King."

"Hmm…? And humans haven't changed a bit in all that time…" He rolled his eyes back down to Aleron, "Tell me, Aleron... Would you like to come with me? Back to _that _place..."

Aleron's eyes widened a bit and pleasure could be seen in his cold blue eyes, "I would follow you anywhere, my King."

Another smile spread across the black haired man's lips before he took a small sip of the wine.

"Hmm~?" he hummed, closing his eyes to savor the taste of the wine, "That right?"

"Always…" The blonde haired vampire said.

They were both silent for a moment, the king getting lost in the memories of him 2 thousand years previous, when he had still been human, and the blond out of respect for his Lord.

Then, without warning, the black man stood once more. He walked a little ways past the blonde, who still hadn't moved, swirling the liquid within his glass.

"How soon can we leave?"

"Two nights, my King."

Another smile spread across the black haired man's lips, "Good~" He purred, "Then we leave in two nights time."

And then he was gone, the king of the vampires disappeared back into the manor that he and his many servants and close subjects lived in.

Aleron stayed silent and still for a moment longer before getting to his feet with a supernatural grace that only a vampire could achieve. He stared at the door leading inside the manor, still open, and smiled, "Yes, King Hadrian James Prevell."

….


End file.
